


Fennel

by CookieAsylum (HeraldsRest)



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Historical Fantasy, Miko Kagome, Ronin Sesshoumaru, Sengoku Era AU, everyone is human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-05 10:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14042622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeraldsRest/pseuds/CookieAsylum
Summary: A miko fleeing for her life. A ronin disgraced, dishonored, and left adrift. Entangled by fate, a sacred duty falls to them.





	1. Coltsfoot

**Author's Note:**

> After indulging in as much samurai and historical content I can get my grubby little hands on - which, let's be honest, mostly consisted of binge-watching Sword of the Stranger and Samurai Champloo - I'm super excited to share this little story. I've taken some liberty with the historical stuff, so it's loosely correct. Everyone is human, and not all main characters in the Inuyasha series make an appearance. Head's up - the rating may change. I hope you all enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inuyasha.

**.•º| |º•.**

 

**Coltsfoot**

_Justice shall be done to you_

 

**.•º| |º•.**

 

Rain pelted her face in fat, icy droplets. It slid through her hair, soaking the silk of her haori. Mud slicked her sandals and clung to the hem of her hakama. Under the cover of the deluge and deepening eve, Kagome made her escape. She wove through the trees, gasping for breath. The stench of smoke and blood clogged her nose.

 

 

“Hurry,” she panted. “I have to hurry!” Greedily gulping in air, she cast a harried look at the scene below.

 

 

Red.

 

 

The shrine was burning. The valley was an ocean of fire, steam, and acrid smoke. The torii arches blazed hot from the oil-fed flames. Despite the rain, the courtyard choked with billowing plumes of smoke. There was nowhere the fire hadn’t touched. From the storage sheds to the Head Priest’s quarters, everything cracked and cindered. From her vantage point upon the ridge sloping along the mountainside, bodies dotted the premises.

 

 

Unmoving.

 

 

Teeth clenched, Kagome glowered at the scene. “That monster…”

 

 

Voices cried out. A shout hollered not far behind, spurring the young woman into motion.

 

 

“I won’t fail,” Kagome swore. “I promise!”

 

 

**.•º| |º•.**

 

 

“Any sign of it?” the man demanded, swinging down from his steed. Adjusting the straps of his hand guard, lurid red eyes took in the remnants of chaos.

 

 

The subordinate steadied the horse. “Not yet, General Naraku. But we are still searching the premises. Oshio Hachiman’s grounds are extensive and-!” Rough hands snared the man’s lapels, yanking him off his feet.

 

 

“Excuses. Find it!” Naraku snarled.

 

 

The shrine was in disarray. Flames licked in tongues of red and orange, and blood spattered across the stone courtyard. Orders had been given to pile the dead and burn them.

 

 

“Only a matter of time,” he murmured.

 

 

This was the fifth shrine his men had attacked. All throughout central Japan, they’d followed the whispers and hushed secrets. Since Lord Ryukotsusei’s conquer of Echizen - and subsequent sundering of the Kirishima Clan - their lord sought greater and more wondrous treasure. As if the coastal province wasn’t treasure enough. And for this, Naraku was all too willing to please his liege.

 

 

Removing his kabuto, he scrubbed fiercely through his dark hair. A sneer pulled at his lips. They were close; he could almost taste it.

 

 

“Over here!”

 

 

That was enough to catch his attention. Waving a squadron over, he followed the samurai to a secluded portion of the shrine. Surrounded by ten men, swords drawn, two miko remained. Backs pressed against the high wall behind them, they raised bow and sword in their defense. And as the second troop of samurai fanned out around them, the women huddled closer.

 

 

“Oh? What have we here?” Naraku crooned, naginata propped against his shoulder.

 

 

"You!" The older miko hissed. Her white haori stained red, her armor in tatters, she could barely maintain her grip on her blade. “How dare you attack this holy place!” she barked. Finding strength, the women raised her sword between them. 

 

 

At her side, the younger miko’s cold gaze drifted across the gathered soldiers. Cautiously, she pulled at her bow.

 

 

“Ah ah,” Naraku tutted. At a wave, his men shifted forward, blades low and ready to strike. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

 

 

“Demon!”

 

 

“Maybe.” Stamping the naginata against the ground, he eyed the older miko with a smirk. “Perhaps you can help this demon. I seek the Shikon no Tama for our lord. Last I heard, it was housed at this shrine.”

 

 

With a roar, the miko lunged. Naraku parried. Naginata clattering against steel, the blade arched across the courtyard. He spun, thrust, and met solid flesh. Red trickling from the corner of her mouth, the miko spat.

 

 

“I, Midoriko, Head Priestess of Oshio Hachiman Shrine, will tell you _nothing_ ,” she snarled.

 

 

Naraku sneered. “So be it.” The naginata withdrew with a sickening squelch, and the miko slumped to the ground. Blade pointed downward, he punctuated his command with a finishing blow. “Take the other,” he growled. “If the master would not talk, then maybe she will. We’re through here!”


	2. American Starwort

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inuyasha.

 

**.•º| |º•.**

**American Starwort**

_Welcome to a Stranger_

**.•º| |º•.**

 

“That’ll be thirty mon,” the woman supplied. Gnarled fingers curled, awaiting copper coins. In the other, a small sack of rice held hostage.

 

Kagome balked. “T-thirty mon!? That’s too much!”

 

The elder sniffed, setting the bag further out of reach. “If you don’t like it, go someplace else.”

 

“No, no! Please, it’s fine,” she surrendered. Hunger was too real a threat. Relinquishing the coins in the woman’s hand, Kagome quietly took the bag with no further complaint. She sketched a bow. “Thank you very much.”

 

Slipping into the crowd, Kagome pulled her hat further over her face. She hadn’t expected life outside the shrine to be so difficult. She knew about the constant wars between the many daimyo. And she was aware of the hardships most peasants faced daily, but she had lived in relative comfort at the shrine. The worry for money - and its constant fluctuation between provinces and villages - was something she had been far removed from. During her training, she’d rarely had the opportunity to leave the shrine and venture into the village. _Now, though…_

 

She wished she had been more prepared.

 

“I got conned,” Kagome grumbled, following the main road to the outskirts of the village. There was an abandoned Buddhist temple she’d stumbled upon during the night. It wasn’t much, but it passed for a sufficient bolthole.

 

Ever since her escape, it was a struggle. A struggle to stay ahead of Ryukotsusei's men - to not attract undue attention. However, a miko’s garb was too iconic. She could hardly travel through a village without someone recognizing her attire.

 

Turning to a winding stair that curved up the hillside, she adjusted her bow. “I really should get some new clothes,” Kagome muttered. _But with what money?_ She had to be sparing with what little she had. The shrine had little in the way of coinage, what with Lord Ryukotsusei draining its coffers to fund his war. And what it did have was probably lost to the fire or stolen by his men. _Not like I was able to grab much as I was leaving._

 

“It’s gone. I can’t believe it,” she whispered, mounting the last of the stairs. Her home for the last ten years was swallowed up by flames. The burden around her neck seemed to weigh heavier than before. Keeping it tucked out of sight was the least she could do.

 

Rounding the side of the side of the temple and up the short, rotting steps, Kagome entered the building. Nestled against the hillside, the temple was nothing more than a dilapidated collection of timbers and paneling. The rounded pillars within barely maintained its structure, and the sliding door on the opposite side had fallen off. Whoever was responsible for its upkeep was long gone. Abandoned to time, nature was slowly attempting to reclaim it. Still, it would suffice.

 

Kagome set aside her bow, dropping the small satchel as she fished in the floorboards. She’d found an old stoneware pot and wooden lid left by the previous tenants while she was snooping last night. It would be just fine for the rice.

 

“Here we go!” Kagome grunted, hefting the pot from its nook. She set it down with a thud, stirring up dust.

 

“Quiet.”

 

She squeaked, spinning.

 

At the remnants of the altar, a stranger lounged. One leg outstretched, the other bent at the knee, his woven hat completely shrouded his face. Dressed in a short-sleeved black kimono and gray hakama, his jinbaori was worn and threadbare. Straw sandals wrapped around black tabi. But it was the pair of katana that captured her attention. Crowned with a red hilt, a dark blade was strapped to his waist, while a second with scrolling patterns was propped against his shoulder.

_A ronin!_ Heart hammering in her chest, Kagome gulped. “W-Who are you? What are you doing here?”

 

Moments of silence ticked by. Impatiently, she stomped her foot. “I asked you a question.”

 

“So noisy,” the man replied, grumbling. Easing forward, one hand gripping the intricate blade and the other removing his hat, he sniffed. “You’re in no danger from me.”

 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

 

Slowly, he faced her. Golden eyes sharpened in her direction. “So,” he began, posture shifting from relaxed to predatory. “You seek to make demands of me, _miko_?” He hissed, her title punctuated by an abrupt stamp of his katana against the floorboards. From his high ponytail, dark hair spilled over his shoulders.

 

Shrinking, Kagome shook her head. “I was just… surprised is all.”

 

Grunting, he returned to lounging against the altar. “Then, be quiet.”

 

“... You can’t stay here.”

 

“Be calm, miko. There’s room enough for two.”

_He’s not going to leave._ Grumbling under her breath, she hoisted the pot once more and stepped outside. The rice would take time to boil, and she had better things to do than argue with a stranger. Not that she wanted to test her luck; even sheathed, she bet those blades was sharper than most of her arrows. Kagome avoided the ronin as best as possible, briefly reentering the temple for a pair of wooden bowls.

 

To pass the time, blue eyes watched the heating pot in a daze. Drifting in an out of awareness and wanting to put the last two nights out of her mind, Kagome settled for observing steam rise from the slits in the lid. A pair of fish smoked on skewers beside the small fire.

 

“A watched pot doesn't boil.”

 

The ronin had relocated from the crumbling altar to just within the doorway, one sword still leaning against his shoulder. His hat removed, his features were much clearer in the daylight. The thick muscles of his biceps flexed as he took a seat on the floor. Kagome threw him a criticizing look, and she chalked up his advance to the lure of food. _Is he planning to kill me if I don’t feed him?_ She was too cautious to inquire. Not with those gold eyes staring holes between her shoulders.

 

Instead, she huffed. “I know.” Prodding the fire, she stole covert glances. “How’d you find this place?”

 

He used the entryway as a backrest. “You can see it from the road below.”

 

Kagome frowned. Standing up to see, it was just as he said. The view from the hilltop was wide, stretching across the low farmland and towards the forest in the distance. _Maybe I should have picked a different spot._

 

“Smells good.”

 

Taking the chance to actually look at the man, Kagome observed his dress with more scrutiny. He didn’t wear Ryukotsusei's colors, and the shoulder seams of his jinbaori were frayed beyond repair. Dirt and road dust smudged his cheeks.

 

She scowled, hands on her hips and chin raised. “Oh? Trying to horn in on my meal, _ronin_?”

 

His lips quirked. “Only what the good miko is willing to share.”

 

She should have known, and pink darkened her cheeks. It was on the tip of her tongue to deny him. It would go against her teachings, but a bit of her couldn’t help but want to be petty. Turning away, Kagome gave the pair of fish another turn. “Fortunately for you, the miko is kind.” Lips pursed in exasperation. “It isn’t much… but I’d be willing to share.”

 

They lapsed into silence with only the rattle of the pot and the crackle of the fire breaking the quiet. At her back, she heard the stranger move about.

 

“So,” he started. “What takes you away from your shrine?”

 

Kagome’s lips pinched, fingers hooking into red silk. “Lord Ryukotsusei ordered it destroyed.” She peeked under the lid. _Nearly done._

 

He shifted, leaning forward slightly. “Oshio Hachiman.”

 

“You know?”

 

“Hn.” The ronin flicked dark hair over his shoulders. “Some of the villagers were discussing it. The fire was seen for miles. It’s not the first to be sundered by his men.”

 

Hands clenched in her mud-stained hakama. Stomach twisting in knots, Kagome wasn’t prepared to discuss the recent events. Let alone with a strange man.  “The food’s done,” she supplied, changing the subject. She plucked one of the skewered fish and spooned a portion of the rice into a wooden bowl. Reluctantly, she approached. “Here.”

 

There was a moment of hesitation. Either in her unwillingness to come any closer, or his caution to close the distance, Kagome eventually placed the meal within arms reach.

 

Calloused fingers brushed. Roughed by battle, larger hands lifted the bowl from her grasp. “Many thanks.”

 

“O-of course.” Finding her spot by the fire, Kagome scooped the remainder into her own bowl and ate quietly.

 

Waxing into relative silence, the miko wondered at her next course of actions. She was on a time limit, and the road to Mt. Tsukuba was long. At least, it seemed so. She wasn’t very familiar with the provinces beyond Echizen - or who controlled them. From what little knowledge she had gained, Kagome knew that Ryukotsusei now controlled the Echizen, Mino, Hida, and Kai provinces. _But how far does his influence really spread? I’m traveling blindly by myself._ Suddenly, she wasn’t very hungry. _I’m really… alone._

 

At her back, the stranger shifted once more.

 

She heard them first. A horse’s whinny and stampeding hoofbeats alerted her to their approach. Bolting upright, Kagome darted into the temple, nearly tripping over the stranger in her haste. She reached for her things - satchel, bow, and quiver - and turned to find a samurai blocking her escape. The far wall shattered and a rock cracked against her forearm, a yelp squeezing between gritted teeth as she tumbled.

 

“There’s no use fleeing, woman!” shouted another. Rounding the temple, the rider paused to spare a look at the ronin. “We are in service of Lord Ryukotsusei. Stand aside.”

 

A foot slid to block the entrance.

 

“Don’t interfere!” the rider barked.

 

Gold eyes briefly glanced into the temple. “She’s just a woman.”

 

“Move!”

 

He did not.

 

Blades drawn, the rider charged. Steel scraped against wood, and the ronin ducked aside. Tumbling down the short steps, he spun, slicing upward along the rider’s thigh. His grip shifted and the blade sheared left. The rider dropped with a sickening thud.

_“No!”_

 

The ronin turned in time as the woman thrust upward, a single arrow piercing the throat of the second warrior. The man coughed, spitting blood and digging coarse hands into her haori. Red dribbled down her arm, and the warrior dropped face-first on the dusty floor.

 

“Miko,” the ronin called, a firm hand steadying her shoulder.

 

Kagome shuddered, the arrow clattering from her grip. Her ears were ringing. Something warm slicked between her fingers. _Blood_. She was accustomed to blood. Eyes falling to the body in front of her, bile burned in the back of her throat. This was different. She’d never killed anyone before.

 

“Oh? Looks like you’re more trouble than you’re worth, miko…”

 

The ronin set the woman to his back as a third rider stepped into sight.

 

Wearing the same colors at the other two, his shoulders bore a pair of slatted pauldrons dipped in yellow. Sharpened daggers glinted under the shifting folds of his cloak. The warrior grinned. “No one mentioned the miko having a guard.” In a flourish, a pair of daggers spun in his grip. “No matter. You will be easily dealt with.”

 

Blades flew.

 

“Go!” the ronin barked, shoving her towards the temple door. She yelped, and they barely evaded as the daggers lodged into the nearby paneling. Another set whisked from within the warrior’s cloak.

 

Dodging one, the second sliced against the ronin’s side.

 

“Surrender the girl,” the warrior warned. Drawing a heavy corded whip from his belt, the weighted end cracked against the floor. “And Goshinki may let you live.”

 

The ronin stilled, blade low.

 

“Have it your way!” The warrior snarled. Arms flung, the whip snapped. Up, down, sideways. The whip crashed and rattled through the temple. Kagome shrieked. Rotted wood shattered underfoot, and the ronin dashed left. Smashing against the floor, the whip cut off any escape. Looping around the ronin’s ankle, it pulled taut.

 

He crouched, barely dodging another set of daggers.

 

Goshinki heaved, hurling the ronin around the room until his back slammed against a pillar with a grunt. Trading whip for dual-wielding knives, Goshinki rushed in. In close quarters, they ducked and dove. A lunge towards the face. A parry with a blade.

 

The ronin fought for space. With his back to the pillar, he kept on the defensive. _An opening!_ A downward slash tore through cloth. Curving upward, his katana cleaved through bone as Goshinki’s right forearm flung across the room.

 

Goshinki leapt back, undeterred. Cackling. Another blade flew, pinning the ronin to the pillar by his coat. Drawing a second, he lunged.

 

He had to think quick. Swiftly looping the discarded whip around his blade, the ronin vaulted overhead and pulled. Tangling around his neck, Goshinki choked. And with a forward jab, the ronin’s katana slid through the hollow of Goshinki’s throat as the pair collided.

 

Dust clouded the air. Goshinki gurgled and coughed, blood and spittle spilling from the corner of his mouth. Red stained teeth contorted into a grin. “I thought” - he sputtered - “that blade looked familiar.”

 

The ronin glared. He withdrew his blade with a twist, and Goshinki’s body slumped to the ground.

 

From the corner, Kagome peeked up. “R-Ronin-san?”

 

The temple was a wreck. Strewn with bodies, she looked on as the swordsman wiped his blade clean. Tentatively, she made her way across the room.

 

He sheathed the katana, stowing it beside the other, and quietly looked over the miko. Despite the pulsing in his ears, he weathered her praise. Yet, her voice sounded distant - muffled, as if underwater. The ringing grew louder. A soft touch to his side startled him, and he snatched the woman’s hand away abruptly.

 

Her fingers were speckled with blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I want to thank Kaity on Discord for beta'ing these early chapters.
> 
> Secondly, I'm playing fast and loose when it comes to money. Currency during this particular era was constantly in flux, where daimyo even started minting their own coins to compete with Chinese coins. And with most payment methods done through rice, it kinda made it difficult to pin down exchange rates. So, I opted to play a little bit with the times. So I'm sticking with mon and ryo coinage since they were a lot simpler during their use (late 1550's - 1600's and the Edo period). Like I said, fast and loose!


	3. Amaryllis

_ Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. Enjoy! _

 

**.•º| |º•.**

**Amaryllis**

_Pride_

**.•º| |º•.**

_ He remembered the war. All around him, the roar and stench of battle raged. Thin slivers of light sprayed red with blood. Shadows in the shapes of men sliced into halves, screams echoing from every direction. He could practically taste the iron in the air. At his back, the castle tower cracked and burned. _

 

_ Somewhere off to his left, he heard his father’s shout. Surrounded and separated, the Echizen lord clashed blade upon blade. Red liberally streaked the white pelt on his shoulders and through his trailing silver hair. A snarl distorted his features. Ryukotsusei’s men pressed, closing in ranks around him. _

 

_ “Father!” He hadn’t recalled crying out. _

 

_ Suddenly, like molten iron, pain lashed up his spine, a gasp tearing from his throat. _

 

“Ronin-san.”

 

_ A voice he didn’t recognize called out. It echoed distantly from beyond the battlefield. Blood thundered in his ears, muffling the sound. _

 

_ Lying prone in the dirt, he watched as the two lords came to blows. Steel sung with each connection. A sharpened edge streaked across his father’s pauldrons. And he felt no small amount of pride as he father sliced along the Dragon of the East’s flank. _

 

_ And with each passing strike, it grew harder to breathe. _

 

“Ronin-san!”

 

_ The katana plunged belly deep. A silent cry pulling on his father’s face, Tessaiga dropped from his fingers. _

 

**“Ronin!”**

 

He gasped, eyes flaring wide. The visions of war replaced by a blur of forested mountains. Hands delved into silken cloth as he frantically took in his surroundings.

 

“You’re awake. Thank goodness!” Glancing over her shoulder, the miko smiled wearily. Clutching the reins firmly in one hand, she patted his tight fist that clung to her haori. The pair bounced as the horse cantered onward. “I was worried.”

 

“Where are we?” he panted, grip loosening. He still felt disoriented.

 

“We’re headed to the next village,” Kagome began. “We need to get you to a Medicine man. You were poisoned. Do you remember?”

 

No, he didn’t. He recalled the fight in the temple, the whip… “Goshinki’s daggers.”

 

“Yes, I suspected as much.”

 

He hummed, resting his forehead on her shoulder. “You could have fled.”

 

She huffed. “And leave behind my rescuer? How ungrateful do you think I am!”

 

He grunted, gaze half-lidded. He was not accustomed to depending on others. At least, not as of late. He’d been on his own for so long now, he had forgotten what it was like. A sigh slipped between his teeth. Trees and mountains passed in a haze, and the ground seemed to spin before his eyes.

 

“Ronin-san,” Kagome started, drawing him from another dizzy spell. “I never got your name. I can’t go calling you ‘ronin’ in front of others.”

 

He hesitated. His clan's name was _not_ an option. And a name was special; _ his  _ name was special . He wasn’t sure how much people remembered, but it hadn’t been so long ago that the people would forget. For now, he would trust. “... Sesshoumaru.”

 

The young woman nodded. “Sesshoumaru-san, hold on a little longer. I can see the village.”

 

**.•º| |º•.**

 

Situated in the shadow of Mt. Norikura, they arrived at the village by sundown. Kagome helped him dismount and stagger into the Medicine man's hut. Watered and remedied, the elderly man took the remainder of the evening to bandage Sesshoumaru’s wounds. He made no mention of the blood staining their clothing or the strangeness of the travelling pair. All the while, Kagome quietly waited by the entryway.

 

“Get him something to drink. Water is best,” the elder started, scooping the coins paid into a bag. He summoned his apprentice, ordering the teen to assist the samurai back onto the horse. “When his color returns, rice should be a good start.”

 

Kagome bowed deeply. “Thank you, sir.”

 

He waved it off. “If you follow the river, there’s a gentleman who rents out his storage room. Tell him I sent you. This village doesn’t have any inns, and it’s best your guard not weather the elements.”

 

“Of course. Thank you.”

 

Outside, apprentice and Sesshoumaru waited. Astride the horse, strips of white cloth peaked between the half-open lapels of his han-juban. Kagome, opting to walk, gathered the reins with a hushed utterance of gratitude.

 

“Where are you taking me?” The medicine was starting to take effect.

 

“There’s a place we can stay so you can heal,” she explained. Taking a moment, she fully looked him over. Even covered in dust, his skin was much too pale. Sweat beaded at his temples. Despite his haggard appearance, he attempted to maintain a warrior’s composure.

 

It didn’t take long to find the man. And parting with the necessary amount of funds, the pair found the storage room to be just enough. Shrugging off her aid, Sesshoumaru settled on one of the straw pallets. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was better than what he’d grown accustomed to. Swords at his side, his gaze never left the miko.

 

The young woman shuffled. “I’m going to bury the saddle.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes. It belongs to Ryukotsusei’s men, and it’s much too fancy.” She frowned, plucking at her bloodied sleeve. “I can’t have them looking for me just yet.”

 

Sesshoumaru stifled a groan, eyes growing heavier by the minute. “I never learned  _ your _ name, miko,” he sighed. The inside of his mouth felt fuzzy, and the contents if his stomach roiled in protest. His thoughts clouded with each breath. Sleep wouldn’t be far off, but he dared not drop his guard in the presence of a stranger - not even one who had done so much for him. “Or why Ryukotsusei is after you.”

 

At the door, she paused. Shoulders tensed, she gnawed at her bottom lip with obvious apprehension.

 

He could tell she was nervous - as wary as he had been - and while he understood secrets, in this he would not budge. “Trust.”

 

She blinked, puzzled. “Pardon?”

 

“Trust me, as I trusted you,” he supplied. Golden eyes held hers steadily, glinting in the darkness.

 

Somewhere, she found courage. She stood a little straighter - chin, a little higher. “My name is Kagome.” Pulling aside the sliding door, she smiled faintly. “I’ll be back shortly. Rest up.”

 

**.•º| |º•.**

 

Throughout the night and early morning, Sesshoumaru drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he would rouse to have the woman press cold water to his lips. Most often, he dreamt of sprawling castles, gap-toothed grins, and silver hair. In those dizzying moments, part of him wished the poison had taken hold. That the miko hadn’t rescued him.

 

Damp cloth touched his forehead, and Sesshoumaru groaned, blinking away the haze. The air felt cold.

 

Kagome shuffled closer. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Better,” he murmured. It tasted like a lie.

 

“Good.” She nodded, touching his forehead. “Your fever broke during the night. Give me a moment to finish changing your bandages. Then, we’ll see if you can keep some food down.”

 

He took a moment to mutedly examine the square room and its other occupant. It was no surprise he was cold. Bare from the waist up, Kagome had stripped him of his jinbaori, kimono and han-juban. An immediate look about located his swords neatly to his left.  _ Out of reach.  _ Clean lengths of cloth lay at her side, while the bloodied ones were strewn in a heap by the door.

 

“I’m not so injured,” he grouched, hissing at the touch of a warm compress against the cut.

 

“Lucky for you,” she retorted. “Otherwise, it would take longer to heal.” Kagome dipped the square of cloth into a steaming pot, wrung it out, and continued cleaning the wound.

 

She watched Sesshoumaru warily. He hadn’t been awake from her previous tendings. When she’d first realized that his wound may need cleaning, she had hesitated.  _ It’s not like I haven’t taken care of injured samurai before _ . Still, alone with a strange man stripped half-bare, even she had been reluctant to the task. But after he’d spilled blood to save her life, taking care of his wounds was the least she could do. It took a few minutes, but soon he was rebandaged and shrugging into the last of his clothing. Purposefully meeting her gaze, he dared her to comment as he placed his blades within reach.

 

Kagome frowned, setting a bowl of steaming rice to his other side.

 

“For me?”

 

“Yes, I managed to get some when I was in the village.”

 

He made no comment; instead, he inspected the white hem of her sleeves. The blood was gone. Gradually he drew his gaze to her face, and blue eyes met his from behind the dark curl of her bangs. “For someone who is on the run, you certainly wander into public often,” he admonished, nibbling on a morsel of rice. It was about time she come clean. “Why are you fleeing from Ryukotsusei?”

 

She grimaced. Kneeling beside him, her fidgeting intensified. She hadn’t been sure how to broach the subject.  _ Now he’s not giving me much choice! _

 

“Miko.” He glared. Annoyed.

 

A palm upraised, she plead for patience. “I have… an offer for you, Sesshoumaru-san.”

 

“No.”

 

Kagome blinked. “But you haven’t heard it yet.”

 

He sniffed. “I’m not interested in getting involved with Ryukotsusei’s men.”

 

Cheeks puffed, Kagome smacked her hand against the floor. “But you just asked! The  _ least _ you can do is listen.”

 

He walked into that one. In his pursuit of answers, he shouldn’t have been surprised that the girl would ask more of him. Still, he had his pride; he  _ wasn’t _ a sellsword. Propping his back against a bag of rice, Sesshoumaru flicked his fingers. “Proceed.”

 

Sitting in seiza, closed fists rested on her thighs. Back straight, she began. “My name is Kagome, miko and second apprentice to Midoriko, Head Priestess of Oshio Hachiman Shrine. My duty is to reach the Higurashi Shrine on Mt. Tsukuba on the night of the full moon.” Reaching into the folds of her haori, she withdrew a necklace of fangs and beads. A single, iridescent orb - nearly the size of a kumquat - dangled from the center. “My burden, the Shikon no Tama, was entrusted to me by Midoriko. It must be destroyed.”

 

Its eerie shimmering unnerved him. “Why?”

 

“Because” - fists clenching against the red fabric, she tucked the jewel back into her clothing - “Because it is rumored that the Shikon no Tama can grant a wish - any wish - to the one who claims it. Before, it was Lord Kirishma’s plan and promise to take it to Mt. Tsukuba so it could be destroyed. But the Kirishima clan fell. Now, Ryukotsusei controls the region… that’s why his men attacked my home!”

 

Sesshoumaru sneered. “And Ryukotsusei wants this jewel for himself? You’re sure?”

 

“What other reason can there be?” she fussed, leaning towards him. Narrowed blue eyes seemed to burn, their ferocity taking him by surprise. “What purpose is there in attacking shrines? No one knew where the Shikon was until recently.” Gulping, Kagome shifted back before placing her palms flat, forehead nearly pressed to the ground. “Please, Sesshoumaru-san. Will you be my guard to Mt. Tsukuba? I have no one else to turn to.”

 

Lips squeezed into a thin line. “No.”

 

“Please!”

 

“ _ No _ ,” he applied more firmly.

 

Eyes raised, the young woman looked desperate. Casting about, Kagome dove into her satchel and hastily withdrew a cloth-wrapped bundle. “W-What if I could pay you? You’re a ronin… you don’t have a master  _ or _ a lord. Would this be good enough?”

 

He nearly snarled at her insolence, but the item she revealed stole his words.

 

In her palm rested a golden statuette of a komainu nearly length of his own hand. A pair of ruby eyes glimmered in the dawning light. Ball under one paw, its luxurious tails wrapped around the base. The crest of a six-petaled flower within a hexagon was stamped on the bottom.

 

He reached, but she pulled it away.

 

Sesshoumaru glared. “Where did you get that?”

 

“It was given to the shrine by Lord Kirishima. It’s worth  _ at least _ 15 ry ō,” Kagome cajoled, returning it to her satchel. “ _ Please _ . I can’t make this journey on my own.”

 

His snort managed to sound derisive. “There’s no such thing as travelling easily with a woman. I’ll have no part of it.”

 

She fumed. “You’ve got some nerve! Considering I just saved your life!” She was tired of begging. If he wouldn’t help…

 

“I did not ask you to.”

 

“But I did!”

 

Grunting, Sesshoumaru pushed onto his knees and stood. Fighting back a wave of nausea, he glared down his nose at the woman. Even injured and bedraggled, he still managed to ignite a spark of fear in her gaze. “You’ll not lord over me,  _ girl _ ,” he spat. Baring flat teeth, his withering stare promised pain. “Perhaps next time you’ll  _ think _ before you act.”

  
Properly cowed, Kagome sputtered, rose, and stormed out. “Fine! So much for samurai and their  _ legendary  _ honor!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken some liberties to change a few things in this little endeavor. Like the placement of certain locales. Such is the fun of fan fiction! So, sit back and enjoy~!


	4. Oleander

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inuyasha.

 

**.•º| |º•.**

**Oleander**

**Beware**

**.•º| |º•.**

 

Trees swayed as strong winds whipped across the mountainous countryside. Horses snorting, they tossed and tugged at their reins.

 

“Have there been any signs of her?” the rider asked, stroking his steed’s dappled neck. They’d ridden all over their section of Echizen [1], following any leads of a lone miko wandering about. Wringing chilled hands, he attempted to rub warmth back into his fingertips. “There are so many poor shrines, there are wandering miko everywhere. We may have better luck in a brothel.”

 

His companion grunted. “Perhaps, Sawamura-dono. I’m sure we all know where _you_ would rather spend your time.” He looked watched their third companion - a woman with dark hair and red eyes questioning an elderly couple - and turned his attention skyward. “Apparently, there was a miko spotted in the village. Though, I wouldn’t be surprised if Goshinki has already found them.”

 

“He always was over-eager,” Sawamura spat.

 

The second rider nodded. “Black hair, blue eyes. Odd coloring and not much to go on, but it’s better than nothing.” Rubbing at the scar on his cheek, he continued. “Ryukotsusei-sama’s efforts are worth it. He would not waste his time with frivolity.”

 

Sawamura scowled. “No doubt, Asahi-dono. Our lord is impressive. And with General Naraku leading his forces, I’m certain our lord could conquer any number of provinces. But chasing a girl for a trinket…”

 

“It seems foolish, no?”

 

The pair looked up as the woman approached, toying with the feather in her hair. She smirked, eyes narrowing with menace. Mounting her steed in a flourish, she wrested control and turned her horse towards the mountains. “Come. It seems Goshinki already spoke to this couple. I know where he went.”

 

Galloping towards the mountain, they followed an overgrown path that led to a set of worn stairs and abandoned temple that hid amongst the trees.

 

The first thing they noticed was the smell.

 

“Blood, Kagura-sama!” Sawamura barked.

 

A curse slithered through her teeth as her horse skidded to a halt.

 

The first body was sprawled across the dilapidated steps. The second lay face down, a hole in his throat. And Goshinki…

 

“That fool,” Kagura grumbled, cutting his hair with a small knife. She tucked it into her sleeve as she carefully surveyed the damage. There were not many who could best her sibling. “What an unexpected turn of events.”

 

Asahi nodded. “A skilled swordsman, based on these wounds.”

 

“Sawamura, send a note to the general,” Kagura scowled. “It seems our miko has help.”

 

**.•º| |º•.**

 

Kagome woke to chilled air, and her toes scrunched inside her thin tabi. Tightening the shabby blanket around her body, she burrowed deeper for warmth. Even so, sleep eluded her. And with a listless flutter, blue eyes cracked open.

 

Aside from herself, the storage room was empty.

 

 _I guess that’s that._ It left a strange pit in her gut. She hadn’t expected the ronin to jump at the chance to help her, but she thought… _I don’t know what I thought. Everyone talks about a samurai’s honor. Guess that doesn’t apply to ronin._ And after she had spent so much time with him yesterday, tending to his wounds, she thought he would eventually change his mind. Few words were spoken following that initial conversation, but she had hoped...

 

Stretching, Kagome tossed aside the blanket. She still had some dried fish left over, and then she would have to set out again.

 

“The full moon is in five days. It’s about a… four day’s journey to Tsukuba, faster if by horse,” she muttered as she repacked her satchel. She combed her fingers through her hair, tying it back with a strip of washi. Retucking her juban and straightening the folds of her haori, she smoothed her hands over her hakama. Briefly, she double-checked for the wrapped komainu, just in case. Arrows accounted for and bow slung over her shoulder, Kagome took one last look around the room. She didn’t want to leave any trace behind.

 

Sliding the panel aside, Kagome froze. “You’re… still here?”

 

Pausing in looping a long white cloth under the horse’s belly, Sesshoumaru eyed her critically. “This is why traveling with a woman is a pain,” he scoffed. Returning to his task, he tucked, tied, and threaded the cloth through a pair of stirrups. “You buried the other saddle. It needed a replacement.”

 

She dared to hope. “Does that mean…?”

 

“Hn. I expect to be paid when we get to Tsukuba.”

 

Sesshoumaru didn’t want to admit that he’d had a change of heart. His reasons were his own. He had no obligation to explain himself to her. And he took no pleasure in her vibrant expression of joy, throwing her a glare to warn off her incoming enthusiastic embrace.

 

“Ah! Miko-sama! Samurai-san! You’re looking much better!” came a voice from above. The pair looked up just at the owner of the hut exited - a squat, older man with a thinning topknot. “A lovely day, no?”

 

Kagome smiled. “Yes, absolutely.”

 

The man gave her a wrinkled grin. He descended the stairs with an obvious hobble, hefting a basket of daikon securely on his back. “Well, I’m off to sell these in the village. Hopefully, I’ll get a decent price. The daimyo keeps changing the currency, it’s hard for an old man to get by these days.”

 

As Kagome watched the elder totter down the road, Sesshoumaru took a seat by the door and occasionally stirred a boiling pot.

 

“Breakfast?” she teased. “It doesn’t look like much.”

 

He raised a brow. “These are not for eating.”

 

“No kidding! They smell horrid!”

 

Sesshoumaru wrinkled his nose. “It will dissipate soon.” Instead, he lifted a paper-wrapped bundle from his side and held it out to her. At her hesitance, he grunted and practically shoved it under her nose.

 

“You… got something for me?” Kagome gently lifted it from his grasp. Tugging at the strings, paper fell away to reveal the folded pattern of a komon and gray umanori-hakama. She blinked, confused. “Thank you, but what’s all this for?”

 

He loathed to explain himself, but he wanted her to understand. “You stand out too much. You will change when we get to the hot spring.” He gestured to a second lidded pot. “Start rice. We’ll depart once you’ve eaten.”

 

Ignoring his command, she visibly brightened. “Hot spring?”

 

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes with a sigh. _This will be troublesome._

 

**.•º| |º•.**

 

“General, I have word from Kagura that Goshinki was killed,” announced a boy with ash-white hair. He held a strip of paper in an outstretched hand, and a large hawk perched on his opposite forearm.

 

Sitting up, Naraku took the note and read carefully. “Seems the miko had help.” Scrubbing a hand across his chin, he held the message over a nearby candle. Flecks of black ash drifted in the air. “Lord Ryukotsusei will want to know.”

 

“General?”

 

Rising, he waved. “Come, Hakudoshi.”

 

His residence adjacent to the lord’s quarters, Naraku passed easily through the gates from the first court to the main domicile. They wove through the maze of intricate shoji paneling, polished wood, and slatted archways before finally kneeling in front of the last set of sliding screens. Through the door to the lord’s receiving chambers, Naraku announced their presence. “Ryukotsusei-sama, I bring news of the girl.”

 

“Enter.”

 

Door sliding aside, the pair entered and bowed.

 

On the far end of the room, a large mural of a dragon arching across the sky - devouring panther, wolf, and dog - encompassed the entire wall. Seated before them in a place of honor, Ryukotsusei sneered at their appearance. Ember candlelight flickered shadows across his angular features. The remains of his mangled left arm were tucked into the folds of his kimono. A thin dish in his good hand, a small tray of sake laid to his right.

 

“Tell me,” Ryukotsusei began. “What is our progress in Shimōsa?”

 

Naraku grinned. “It goes well, my lord. Byakuya has sent word that he has captured the castle of the Hōjō clan.” [2]

 

“Good. And what of the miko?” he rumbled, a glare kindling in his one good eye.

 

The General smirked, undaunted. “It seems she is fleeing Echizen and headed east, my lord. She has assistance. Most likely a samurai.”

 

“And your men are on her trail?”

 

“Yes, my lord. Kagura is not far behind.”

 

Ryukotsusei snorted, tipping the dish to his lips. He held it out once more, and a woman slipped from the shadows to refill it. “That is good news,” he began, swirling the clear liquid. Once, twice, and returned his gaze to the General. “You have served me well, Naraku. As expected, I knew your service would be worthy of my cause.”

 

The General dipped his head. “I aim to please, my lord.”

 

“I know it,” he started. The lord’s reply was smooth, slithering through thinned lips. “Do not think to play me as you did Kirishima.” He waved his hand. “Keep me apprised of the girl’s whereabouts. You are dismissed.”

 

The pair bowed and tacitly exited. The return march to the General’s quarters was silent, and not an utterance passed between the two until the door slid shut behind them. A small contingent of his most trusted warriors knelt within. Hakudoshi eyed his master, patiently waiting.

 

“Kanna,” Naraku started softly. A pale girl shuffled forward with a hushed shift of cloth. “See to it that we are not disturbed.”

 

Nodding, she vanished.

 

He’d come too far. Sacrificed too much to continue to scrape and bow. Research and study brought him to the Kirishima’s doorstep, and in gaining their trust, he had earned his place. But ever he wanted more. And in exchange for knowledge - castle fortifications, troop movements, and any manner of clan secrets - he won the Dragon of the East’s regard. But the Dragon was ever watchful. _Distrusting. And rightfully so._ Sneering, Naraku issued his next command. “Onigumo.”

 

A dark haired man shifted, bowing. “General.”

 

“How is our little bird holding up?”

 

“She lives, sir.” His perverse smirk was poorly concealed. “She has sung beautifully many times. I know where the miko is headed.”

 

Grinning, Naraku propped his chin on his knuckles. “Wonderful. We shall inform Kagura of our next step. Soon, we will make our move. I’m sure our lordship would like to be there for such a _momentous_ occasion.”

 

**.•º| |º•.**

 

The cacophony grew as the crowd gathered. Erected beside a raised platform, a wooden sign displayed hastily scrawled kanji. Villagers muttered and milled about, while others looked on with mild interest.

 

Heavy footsteps interrupted the chatter.

 

Mounting the platform, a woman with feathered ornaments and crimson eyes stared across the sea of ruddy faces. Two samurai stood at her back, each with a hand resting on the hilt of their katana.

 

“Your attention,” she began, her fan snapping open at her side. “Lord Ryukotsusei calls upon the citizens to aid him in the search for a fugitive miko. She stole something from your lord, and it is suspected that she is accompanied by a swordsman. The miko has blue eyes and black hair. If you have any news on their whereabouts, please report them to myself or any of his lordship’s soldiers immediately.” A deadly sneer twisted across her lips. “And if you are caught harboring the fugitive, you will also be severely punished.”

 

A murmur swept over the crowd, and Kagura smiled wickedly behind her fan as the gathering dispersed.

 

All save one elderly man with a basket of daikon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank Kaity for beta'ing these early chapters.
> 
> [1] Echizen is the province where our fic began. In modern context, it would be located in the northern portion of the Fukui prefecture. It was best known for making traditionally-produced paper called washi.
> 
> [2] During the Sengoku Era, the Shimōsa Province was held by the Later Hojo Clan. It would be located in present-day Chiba and Ibaraki prefectures.


	5. Coral Honeysuckle

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inuyasha.

**. • º | | º • .**

**Coral Honeysuckle**

_The Color of My Fate_

**. • º | | º • .**

 

Slightly off the road and hidden in a copse of trees, steam wafted over a rock-lined pool. A pungent odor of sulfur and minerals filled the air.

 

Kagome sighed, drifting lazily. “Ah, this is perfect!”

 

It had been at least three days since she’d last indulged in a decent soak. And after all the running she’d done, the hot spring would do wonders for her sore muscles. Following a hasty breakfast — for Sesshoumaru seemed to be in a particular hurry this morning — they left the elderly man’s hut without a word of goodbye. Kagome swore up and down that the ronin was being rude to their host, and that they should wait for their host’s return, but he wouldn’t listen and never turned back. She didn’t want to get left behind.

 

From the other side of a jumble of large stones that divided the spring, Kagome heard Sesshoumaru’s sniff. Grumbling, she paddled over. Through the coiling vapors, she could see him leaning against the far end, his muscular arms spread out on either side of him. Clean of dirt and sweat, she could secretly admit that he was handsome. _Too bad._ Fine of face and stature, all the good looks in the world did nothing for his piss-poor attitude.

 

“What’s got you in a mood?” She huffed. Kneeling in water only chest deep, Kagome folded her arms across a large rock to rest her chin. “The water feels great! You should be enjoying this.”

 

“We shouldn’t linger.”

 

“But I want to relax!”

 

“We don’t have the luxury,” Sesshoumaru stressed. He rose, and heated water streamed down his well-defined form.

 

While not necessarily uncomfortable with the male body, Kagome politely averted her gaze with a blush. The damage was done, and the image was carved behind her eyelids. A broad torso, and a tapered waist that angled sharply into a V-shape just above the dip of his hips, was permanently etched into her mind. _Get ahold of yourself!_ Fingers pressed against her cheeks, warm from too many minutes in the spring or from that brief look, she couldn't say.

 

“Eyes to yourself, miko.” His tone was frigid, but the quirk of his lips said otherwise.

 

Accidentally spying another glance, he was at least clothed in his fundoshi. Though it wasn't his pale skin that stole her attention this time.

 

“So many,” she breathed. Blue eyes traced the numerous scars that crisscrossed his back and sides, paler in comparison to his normal skin tone. The largest, a thin stripe with jagged edges, angled from his right shoulder blade to the lower left of his waist. His newest wound, stitched and healing, was located slightly above it. Sesshoumaru didn’t seem offended by her inspection; he was too busy scrubbing coarse fingers through his hair.

 

He worked vigorously. From root to tip, his hair grew lighter with each pass. Black dripped on the stone below. Dipping a wooden pail into the pool, he poured it overhead and trails of dark water spilled down his back.

 

Kagome gasped.

 

“Out with it.”

 

“Your hair,” she started, eyes wide. “It’s silver. It can’t be…”

 

The note of disbelief was telling. He didn’t blame her; his current appearance was far removed from who he once was. He no longer dressed in the red and white that had been customary of his clan. Truthfully, it would probably take the revealing of his natural coloring for anyone to believe his actual identity. “My clan was known for its silver hair and gold eyes,” he supplied. Sesshoumaru smothered a sigh. “In fact, we took great pride in it.”

 

“But that means-!”

 

He gestured to a bamboo tube near her. “Hand me that.”

 

“You’re a Kirishima.” Kagome obliged, mystified.

 

He grunted, pouring a handful of dark liquid into his palm. “Kirishima Sesshoumaru. Son and heir to Kirishima Taisho, the previous lord of Echizen.”

 

Shock was the only way she could explain it. _There’s no way. No possible way!_ And yet, he was completely real. Here was the heir of the Echizen province, kneeling and lathering black dye into his long, silver tresses. _He survived the war_. A smidgen of hope blossomed in her chest, and her fingers curled protectively around the Shikon at her throat.

 

Kagome had to know. “Is that why you changed your mind?”

 

Sesshoumaru had dreaded that very question. He knew she would eventually ask it. The Kirishima Clan had promised to assist in the destruction of the Shikon no Tama. _Is that why the gods spared me?_ Scoffing, he was never a believer in Fate — or the gods. He’d always seen it as the ultimate dishonor — that his clan and family had perished on the battlefield and he had survived — and too selfish to commit hara-kiri [1], a life of disgrace was all he could look forward to.

 

He paused, doused his hair once more, and rose. Where once the young lord stood, only a black haired ronin remained. “I do not wish to talk about it.”

 

“Wait! Sesshoumaru-san… er, sama, I-!”

 

“ _No_.”

 

She froze.

 

“I am no longer a lord.” He wrung out his hair before tying it back with a tattered strip of red and off-white cloth. Drying off and forgoing his bandages, he tugged on his han-juban and kosode, stepped into his hakama, and tightly wrapped his obi. His katanas slipped into place at his waist. Glare boring into bewildered blue eyes, he threw on his jinbaori. “You will address me accordingly.”

 

She dipped lower behind the stone barrier. Properly chastised, Kagome nodded.

 

Sesshoumaru gestured to her own pile of clothing. “Finish up.”

 

**. • º | | º • .**

 

They rode through the rest of the day and into the evening, only slowing briefly to rest and water the horse. Skirting south of Matsumoto, they galloped through the peaks and valleys of the Tosandō [2] until the sun dipped beyond Mount Moriya and stars dotted the path overhead. A fattening moon lit the way. Avoiding the busy nightlife of Narai-juku, they rode by without stopping and into the mountains once more. Clinging to his back, Kagome buried her face between his shoulders, seeking warmth. The smell of pine and dust clung to his clothes, but the faint scent of spring minerals lingered. Black hair tickled her cheek.

 

Kagome still couldn’t believe it. That she had stumbled across a Kirishima — the _last_ Kirishima — had to be a blessing during this dangerous hour. Coming across him in that ruined temple, it had to be Fate. A sparkle of wonder and hope nipped at her heart. And every now and then, she’d try to steal a peek at the man, still marveling at the transformation from silver to black.

 

“It’s a shame really.” She found herself speaking into his shoulders.

 

“Hnn,” he grunted.

 

“Your hair,” Kagome clarified. “The silver… it’s beautiful.”

 

Sesshoumaru gave no response, and spurred the horse into a steady canter.

 

Kagome hadn’t expected him to reply, though it would have been nice. He seemed the more reticent type; not necessarily participating in small talk nor initiating any conversations. _There’s no way am I keeping quiet this whole trip_. Pressing her face into his shoulders to hide from the cold, she mutedly basked in his warmth. She’d never been this close to a man — at least, not one that wasn’t bleeding from wounds or suffering illness. Arms wrapped around his middle, she blushed at the flex of solid muscle beneath her palms. It left a strange tingling in her belly, and she did her best to curb the feeling, instead focusing on not falling off. The constant bouncing was starting to get uncomfortable.

 

 _There’s only so much one can take!_ She was fortunate that the clothing Sesshoumaru had purchased were suitable for riding. Kagome didn’t want to even imagine trying to ride side saddle. Or worse — with the komon hiked up to mid-thigh. _Not in this chill!_ Groaning, she rose up slightly to ease the muscles of her rear.

 

“Sesshoumaru-san…”

 

Nothing.

 

“Sesshoumaru-san?” Nose wrinkling, she tried again. This time she punctuated her address with a slight pinch to his uninjured side.

 

“Hnn.”

 

“When can we stop?” Kagome pressed her face into his back. “My butt’s going numb, and the horse must be tired.”

 

He acknowledged her with a grunt.

 

She hardly considered that an adequate response. All his monosyllabic replies were met with a deepening scowl. _Why can’t he just use words like normal people?_ Pouting, Kagome prodded him again. “I swear. If we don’t stop soon, I’m going to make the rest of this trip a living hell for you.”

 

Sesshoumaru clicked his tongue and glowered over his shoulder. “Bold words from a little girl.”

 

Her cheeks puffed. Blunt nails poked and pinched his side. “I’m _not_ a little girl! My name’s Kagome! _And_ I won’t pay you!”

 

“Woman, cease at once.”

 

She stuck her tongue out. “Nuh uh! Not until we stop!”

 

One hand grasping the reins, the other delivered a sharp smack to her thigh. “Act your age,” he growled, frowning at her surprised yelp. For someone claiming to be an adult, she certainly wasn’t behaving like one.

 

Cheeks hot, her bottom lip trembled. _Jerk!_ Angrily, she buried her face into his jinbaori. She _needed_ to get down. “Sesshoumaru-san, stop the horse.”

 

There was no helping it. “Soon. Be patient.”

 

Kagome groaned, but tightened her hold. It felt like her bones were being rattled into soup. She gave up counting the moments until “soon” arrived when Sesshoumaru finally pulled back on the reins. The horse slowed and heavy breaths gusted from its nostrils. They had stopped along the mountainside, forests surrounding them in every direction. He swung down from the saddle before turning to help her dismount, broad hands steadying her hips as her feet found solid ground. Fumbling a thank you, she straightened her hakama.

 

“Come,” he ordered, leading the way into the forest.

 

Kagome teetered after him. “Not a village?”

 

“Not tonight.”

 

She frowned. “Why not?” She glanced skyward through the thickening branches: an autumnal night, cloudless and cold. “It’s not going to rain, but there is a chill. At least an inn would be warmer, right?”

 

He didn’t reply. Instead, heading deeper into the woods, he guided the horse down a worn deer track and around a thick cluster of camphor trees. Passing the last trunk, he halted, and Kagome stole a curious peek around him.

 

Away from the road and shielded by wide trunks, a lone hut leant against a sprawling giant, the roof covered in a thick layer of moss. From this distance, Kagome could make out a hitching post and low trough for water. A barrel to catch rainwater was attached to the other side. It seemed vacant, but she couldn’t say for certain. No smoke rose from the roof vents and not a flicker of orange light indicated a fire from within.

 

“Wait here.”

 

Handing her the reins, Sesshoumaru carefully approached. He peered through slatted windows. Yielding no signs of life, he waved her over. “We’ll rest here for the night,” he began, leading the horse to the side of the hut. “There is a river down the way. And a hot spring” — her eyes sparkling, he quickly dashed her hopes — “but not tonight. Do not wander off.”

 

“How did you know about this place?” Kagome slid open the door, ducking inside. “It can’t have been easy to find.”

 

It was a simple structure. Rectangular in shape and consisting of a dirt genkan and a stone fire pit, the remainder of the living space was situated on a raised platform — a large pallet of furs dominating a third of it. A few jars lined wooden shelves, and some rudimentary fishing poles, spears, and bows were stashed in a corner. An empty pail for water sat in another. It was small, and when Sesshoumaru joined her it seemed to _shrink_.

 

“By accident.” He checked the jars, taking stock. _Empty._ “Better than sleeping outside when you have no money.”

 

“Are you often out of money?”

 

Sesshoumaru sighed. “More often than I would like.”

 

He moved about the room, making himself comfortable in the cramped quarters. It was a hut made for a shorter person than he, but he could manage for one night. The hour grew late, and he put aside his swords as he sat at the edge of the raised platform. Sesshoumaru could tell the miko was distressed — what with the way she fidgeted with her sleeve or tried to stay out of his space — and he was sure she’d have something to say.

 

“A-Are you sure we can’t reach the next town?” Kagome shuffled aside, trying to give herself some breathing room. But even that was limited as she nearly tripped over the fire pit. She wasn’t hesitant to stay in the same room as him; she’d been doing that for the last two nights. _But that was different._ More focused on his recovery at the time, it hadn’t really occurred to her that she was sleeping in the same room as a man she’d just met. _Now..._

 

He sighed deeply. “We’ve already passed Matsumoto. Wada-shuku is north of here, but the horse needs rest and the road is steep.”

 

“We passed Matsumoto? Why didn’t we stop there?”

 

“Why would I take you to there?”

 

“Because-!”

 

“Ryūkotsusei’s castle is in Matsumoto,” Sesshoumaru growled, prowling close. He had to make her understand. Backing the miko against the wall, his broad frame loomed over her as he cornered her between his arms. She was a naïve thing. With no understanding of the world beyond her shrine, it was a wonder she made it as far as she had. Glaring down at her, she shuddered in his shadow, and he tried not to succumb to wide, blue eyes. “I’m _not_ taking you there. Ryūkotsusei’s men will be watching the road. _And_ the inns. It is best we avoid such places.”

 

“Y-yeah, but,” Kagome stammered.

 

“You were the one complaining about being sore.” He backed off, tugging his hair free of its high tail and combing his fingers through it. “This will do for tonight.”

 

Grumbling, Kagome surrendered — for now. Keeping herself busy by snooping through jars and peeking into nooks and crannies, she searched for anything edible. _He’s right._ The more they stayed away from the public, the better their chances of reaching Mount Tsukuba. But there was only so much they could do to avoid being seen on the main road. _He’s being overly paranoid._ She stared out the window, doing her best to ignore the gnawing in her belly until it eventually became too much to bear.

 

“Sesshoumaru-san, I’m hungry,” she muttered.

 

He grunted.

 

“The jars are empty and I’m out of rice,” Kagome started, wandering to the corner to inspect a simple fishing spear. “You said there was a river, right? If I start a fire, I can cook fish.”

 

“No fire.”

 

Kagome countered. “Why not?!”

 

“They’ll see it from the road.”

 

Turning about with hands on her hips, the miko glared. There was no way she was going to bed on an empty stomach. They hadn’t stopped to eat — only pausing to stretch their legs or rest the horse — and with nothing in this hut, her stomach would keep her up all night. _And if I have to be awake all night, so will you._ She stomped her foot. “Then what am I supposed to eat?”

 

He shrugged, not moving from his spot.

 

“All right… then I’ll look for food in the woods.”

 

Meeting her glare, he growled, “You’ll do no such thing.”

 

“You’re being unfair!”

 

“Fine,” he replied with a grumble. _Troublesome._ He stood and straightened his hakama, slipping Bakusaiga into his obi. He should have known that she wouldn’t make this journey an easy one. Filching one of the spears and stepping past the door, he threw a firm command over his shoulders. “Stay.”

 

“Ass,” Kagome huffed. Untethering her sandals and clambering onto the platform, she fished a blanket from a corner nook. _I can’t believe him._ Wanting to go without dinner was ridiculous. And while she was no stranger to hunger, she’d rather avoid it if possible.

 

Cocooned within the blanket, she watched the door with a half-lidded gaze. _Hopefully… he’ll be back soon._ He never did say how far away the river was. She wasn’t concerned though. He was a big, bad ronin perfectly capable of looking out for himself. Creeping to the window, she peeked out to make sure the horse was still there.

 

Just in case.

 

Horse still hitched and not a soul in sight, Kagome killed time as she waited for his return. She hadn’t had a moment to herself for awhile. Fiddling with the jewel, reflecting on the past few days, on the upcoming ones, and the ronin she’d allied herself with, she felt drained — mentally and physically. _Why did this happen?_ She could hazard a guess. But more so, Kagome wondered why Midoriko had sent her off with the jewel and not Kikyo. While they had both been lectured and trained about the Shikon no tama, her cousin had been much more capable. She still remembered the silent stare Kikyo had given her when the attack on their home began. _I hope she’s okay._ Turning the Shikon in her hand, the young miko grumbled, “This is all your fault. If you weren’t at our shrine, none of this would have happened. If you didn’t exist…”

 

_Then Echizen would be free of Ryūkotsusei, and Sesshoumaru would still have his clan._

 

Fingers squeezed tightly, and she stashed the jewel into her clothes once more. _That’s not true._ Ryūkotsusei could have still attacked Echizen. His General could have still attacked her shrine. Anything could happen during these warring times. _And we would have never met._

 

Wood scrapped, and Kagome peeped from the blanket, watching as Sesshoumaru returned the fishing spear to its proper place. It was odd seeing him with his hair down. “W-Welcome back.”

 

“Hnn.” Seated at the edge of the platform, he passed a cloth-wrapped bundle into her hands. Two cooked fish, still warm from the fire, were tucked inside.

 

“Thank you!” Gratefully biting into the first, she chewed and asked, “What about you?”

 

“I ate by the river.”

 

Stepping around her, Sesshoumaru slid Bakusaiga from his obi. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He knelt on the pallet, content to ignore her.

 

Quietly, she munched at her dinner until her fingers were licked clean and she stepped outside to wash them in the rain barrel. Belly warm and full, Kagome returned just in time to witness Sesshoumaru wince as he shifted on the pallet.

 

“Does it still hurt?” She inquired, snagging the small pail in the corner. A quick step outside, and she was setting the water-filled container beside him. Wrapping a long strip of cloth around her shoulders, she tied back her sleeves. “Let me see it.”

 

He glared. “I am fine.”

 

“Sesshoumaru-san, you should _really_ let me check it,” she urged, kneeling at his side.

 

He sniffed, content to ignore her.

 

“What if it gets infected?” Kagome glared, leaning towards him. “I noticed you didn’t put the bandages back on after the bath. You can’t rush these things. Now, let me see it.”

 

“I said no.”

 

“Yes!”

 

He scowled. “Vexing woman.”

 

“Stubborn ronin.”

 

He glared at her, but she refused to back down. The firm set of her jaw, her pursed lips, and her pinched brow were all proof of her determination. Sesshoumaru huffed. He wasn’t the type to surrender to anyone, but he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t. _If it will give me a moment of peace…_ Acquiescing, he shrugged out of his outer kosode and han-juban before showing her his injured side.

 

“Fine,” he grumbled.

 

Nimble fingers danced along his ribs, cautious of the cut, and sent a shiver chasing up his spine. A muttered apology breezed between her lips, but her focus remained on the mending skin. The wound was pulled together with catgut, little stitches dotting along a portion of his lower ribs. While it no longer bled, the once-pale skin was raised and inflamed. Carefully, she dabbed at it with cool water and reapplied the bit of salve the medicine man had given her, the ronin hissing at the procedure.

 

Kagome paused, concerned. “Still tender?”

 

He grunted, his expression unchanged.

 

“I’m almost done,” she reassured. Withdrawing the long strips, which she had cleaned and dried during one of their earlier rests, Kagome rebound the wound. “There! Finished. Was that so hard?”

 

He didn’t dignify that with a response, and watched as the young woman yawned into her elbow. “Sleep, miko.” He planned to head out early tomorrow and ride while the road was still quiet.

 

 _Sleeping arrangements…_ There was something she hadn’t considered. Mild panic ignited in her gut.

 

Kagome stuttered. “W-Where will you be sleeping?”

 

Redressed, he gestured to the fur pallet. Both katanas were placed at the head of the bed — within arm’s reach and precautionary.

 

She gulped. “And… where should I sleep?”

 

“There is room enough for two.”

 

“N-No!” Visibly bristling, Kagome vigorously shook her head. “Absolutely not!” Red flushed her cheeks as she cast panicked glances around the miniscule living space. Anywhere but at him.

 

Inclining his head, he growled, “You are mistaken if you think I’m going to sleep on the floor.”

 

“I-I could give you the blanket.”

 

“By all means, bring it with you.” Long fingers wrapped around her wrist, halting her escape. Tugging gently, he urged her kneel before him. Red-faced and nervous, the flustered girl sputtered in his hold. “The air is cold. You may sleep close tonight.”

 

She seemed to prickle even more at his offer. “That’s _definitely_ not appropriate!”

 

He shrugged. “Yet, I will allow it.”

 

“Oh? You’ll _allow_ it, will you?” Kagome growled, wrenching free of his hold. As much as she knew it was hazardous to her health, the miko refused to budge on this. _Acting all high and mighty! He’s the one who told me not to treat him like a lord!_ It was on the tip of her tongue to give him a verbal lashing, but the darkening glare in his eyes stole her bark. Incredulous, she folded her arms to her chest. “How do I know you won’t try anything?”

 

His snort could only be described as derisive. “Don’t flatter yourself. I prefer my women more experienced.”

 

“Rude!”

 

“Quit dawdling,” he grunted with a shrug, effectively dismissing her. “We leave before sunrise.” Conversation over, Sesshoumaru laid back and tossed his jinbaori over his legs, snagging a portion of the blanket for good measure.

 

It was like a million butterflies. Hummingbirds. Bees. All the fluttery, buzzing feelings tickled the inside of her belly and sent chills running between her shoulders. Fidgeting in place, Kagome bore holes into her section of the pallet — if she could even call it that. While the bedding was made for two, the way Sesshoumaru sprawled out made the prospect of sleeping without touching him nearly impossible. _I might as well sleep on the floor!_ And that was even less appealing. Swallowing a whimper, she shuffled and laid on her side, back facing the ronin.

 

All the while, Kagome knew he was watching her. She could feel his stare digging into her skull. Or the sheer amount of body heat he radiated. Her toes curled, and she tugged the blanket up to her chin. Throwing a half-hearted glare, she barked with a blush, “Stay on your side!”

 

Lips quirked, he hummed, “As you say, miko.”

 

**. • º | | º • .**

  


A wisp. A flicker.

 

_“Go! Run!”_

 

Narrow tongues of flame licked from oil wicks in the dark corners of the inner palace. A low, warm glow illuminated the Lady’s chambers. Behind gossamer curtains, a woman in elaborate robes sat, carefully eyeing her youngest attendant. The girl, quiet and docile, bowed and set about her task. Small fingers plucked and primped — painted and polished — before holding up a mirror for her Lady’s inspection.

 

_Fire cracked, and smoke plumed in the narrow hallways of the castle. Shouts and bells rattled through the red-lit corridors, and a girl scrambled to her grandmother’s chambers, a cry tearing from her throat._

 

“Absolutely not!” the Lady barked, smacking the mirror from the girl’s hand. A second strike connected with the side of her face. “I’ve told you before! Not this color!”

 

Wordlessly, the girl bowed.

 

A knock interrupted the session, and the Lady beckoned with a calm command. Kneeling in the doorway, an elderly servant dipped at their shoulders.

 

“Pardon the intrusion, my Lady. Ryūkotsusei-sama requests the girl.”

 

“His pet?” The Lady snorted. She couldn’t understand her lord’s want to keep the little urchin. She was worthless. “Fine. He may take her. I’ve had enough of her for today.”

 

Cooly, the elder called, “Come, girl.”

 

_“Grandma! Grandma!” The girl gasped, hastily pulling aside the panel. Tears streamed down her face. Coughing against the rising heat and smoke, the girl rushed and frantically clung to the plush fur that spilled over of her elder’s shoulders. “Hurry! Inuyasha-no-niisama says we have to leave!”_

 

The servant led her from the Lady’s chambers and through the winding halls. Kneeling before a sliding panel, the pair listened as raised voices erupted from the room.

 

“The Fool of Owari dares to bark at _my_ gates!” A lord’s indignation.

 

“Truly barbaric, my lord.” A placating concession.

 

“Did I not steal Mino from under his nose? Did he and the Saitō clan learn nothing!” [3]

 

“My lord, your capture of Mino from both clans was absolute. Truly worthy of the title of _Dragon of the East._ Oda was lucky to escape with his life,” came a mollifying reply. “They are a small clan, my lord. It should not be a problem for you to suppress them. And claim Owari in the process.”

 

The voices pitched low, and the elder knocked, announcing their presence with a clear tone. From the other side, a low summons replied.

 

_Her back faced the door. Long silver hair and white fur billowed over royal shoulders and vibrant silks. The woman never moved — not even to acknowledge the child clinging to her person — and the girl whimpered at the sight. The woman sat in perfect seiza, legs bound and red staining her many silks. A bloodied tanto at her side._

 

“I’ve brought the girl as requested, my lord.” Foreheads pressed to the tatami, the pair prostrated themselves before their lord.

 

Ryūkotsusei snorted, towering over the girl. He didn't know what possessed him to keep the child, and though she never spoke, he found himself increasingly annoyed by her presence. She was no one special — just some brat he’d plucked from the ruin of the Kirishima castle, dingy and covered in dirt. It would have been within his rights to kill her, wearing the crest of his enemy and cowering before his sword. But he hadn’t, and instead hauled back to his castle by her ridiculous little ponytail. Still, she managed to come in handy. Whether in the kitchens or when he needed something to kick around, she was a useful, _worthless_ thing.

 

“Come along, girl.” As she mutedly followed, he remembered that it was not pity or compassion that stayed his hand that day. _Revenge_. For the irreparable damage Kirishima Taisho had done to his arm — for the loss of his eye.

 

All to be exacted upon the last, pitiful survivor of that _insignificant_ clan.

 

Down. Down into the lower depths of the castle until they halted in front of a pair of guards watching a dark door. The men bowed, opening the door to a dimly lit room. Longer than it was wide and largely unfurnished, a single copper bowl smoldered with hot embers, casting shadows. From the farthest end, chains rattled.

 

Striding forth, Ryūkotsusei bored down on his hostage.

 

The remains of her kosode lay in tatters, and her dark hair spilled over bared shoulders. Her cheeks were painted with bruises, each in various stages of healing. A pile of red fabric flecked with dried blood wrinkled under her knees, and naked limbs folded close. Thin lacerations crisscrossed her thighs and calves.

 

Scowling, he tilted her chin for a closer inspection.

 

“So,” he began, turning her face side to side. “This is how my General treats my guests? I apologize for the poor hospitality, Kikyo-sama. And to think… you’ve only been here for a handful of days.” Gesturing to one of the guards, the locks clicked free.

 

Numb limbs dropped heavily to her side. She remained still, only taking the moment to stare coldly at him.

 

“Girl!” At his bark, the child shuffled forward and bowed. “Take her to the baths. Have her dressed and bring her straight to me when you’re done.” Orders given, he left without a backwards glance.

 

Lifting her face, the girl approached with tender hands and mutedly encouraged the miko to stand. Small fingers gripped, leading the way. Up into the castle, through the long corridors to the bathing chambers set aside for guests. A large pool was raised off the ground, a fire blazing beneath to heat the grand bath. Setting out fresh undergarments, soaps, and scented oils, the girl assisted in removing ragged cloth before pitching them into a corner. The miko sunk into the heated bath, listless and quiet. Silence lingered with only the sound of bubbling water filling the air.

 

_Cowering in a corner of the blazing courtyard, the girl wrapped thin arms around her knees. Away from the flames and beside the koi pond, ash and dirt smudge her skin and the blocks of her orange kimono. Names slipped through her teeth a broken sobs. She’d fled the castle, hoping to spot a familiar face in the chaos, but the courtyard was a field of bloodied bodies. No one appeared; only great plumes of smoke rising into the blackening night._

 

Washed and dried, the girl lead the way to a quiet guest room with feminine décor. Tall braziers flickered orange light in each corner. Though the room was unoccupied, another servant had set out several layers of folded silks for the lord’s guest. And with some practice, the girl aided Kikyo into her many layers of borrowed finery.

 

“You…”

 

It was the barest of whispers. The first word spoken by the captured miko not out of duress. A crack in the calm facade, chilled fingers trembled as they captured the girl’s face. Brown eyes met as long moments passed between them.

 

“I know you…”

 

_It was better back then — before the war. Sun-dappled and giddy, the girl tousled in fields of flowers, and she squealed as strong arms hoisted her onto strong shoulders. “Come on, kiddo! Hang out with your Uncle today. Let’s go visit the girls!”_

 

A whimper. It stung. A burn licked behind the girl’s eyes, her vision blurring as she gulped in a ragged breath. Droplets beaded. Heart hammering within her tiny ribs, thin fingers crumpled silk without a second thought.

 

“K-Ki…-” she choked. The sound of her voice was strange to her own ears. “K-Kikyo-sama…”

 

Steady arms wrapped around small shoulders, drawing the crying child into warm, colorful layers. “Oh, Rin…” Kikyo soothed, patting her head as childish sobs muffled into gasping hiccups. They rocked in silence. She never thought anyone would have survived that long night. Least of all the youngest of the Kirishima clan.

 

Her love certainly hadn’t.

 

Moments passed, and the pair tucked closer and tighter with each swaying motion. There was no way she could leave the girl here. Not after what they both had been through. They were prisoners of this place. And Ryūkotsusei was not the sort of man to oblige the requests of his captives.

 

Anger mounted with each breath. In the shadows of the room, Kikyo could feel it nipping at her belly. A small spark that gradually burned hotly, tugging her in every direction with thinly-concealed rage. Belated fury at the loss of everything she’d come to know. At the one who put calloused hands on her person — who took and _took and took._ And to the one who stole it all: her life, her love, her future. Still stroking Rin’s hair, Kikyo pondered options and possible outcomes. It was a gamble, and if she played her chips right, things could work in her favor.

 

A knock sounded from the hall.

 

“Lord Ryūkotsusei-sama demands your presence.”

 

Time was up.

 

Using the edge of her sleeve, Kikyo dabbed at Rin’s cheeks. “Do not cry. We will leave this place.” They would. They had to.

 

Leaving the girl behind, the miko followed the servant to lord’s chambers.

 

“Enter,” he rumbled.

 

Panels sliding aside, the miko freshly bathed and attired, shuffled in. Dressed more elegantly than her station permitted, Kikyo knelt before him. Unbowing. Unyielding.

 

Ryūkotsusei sneered, all teeth. “Oh? No respect for your lord?”

 

“I have no respect for anyone right now,” she replied, cold.

 

Her retort was splendid, and Ryūkotsusei commanded a tray be brought for his guest. “Surely you must be starved. My dungeons are not known for their careful tending.”

 

Her glare deepened. The tray of small dishes was ignored.

 

Snorting, the lord cut to his own chase. “Naraku has done you wrong. Shamed you, I am sure.” Ryūkotsusei did not elaborate — he did not need to — and was content to let his words hang between them. “What if I could help you get revenge?”

 

Fingers clenched in burgundy silk. “Does that include against _you_ , my lord?”

 

“If it would win your assistance, then yes.”

 

Kikyo did not smile, but seemed to respond favorably to his offer. “Then yes, I’ll help you...”

 

Ryūkotsusei clapped his thigh, a feral grin stretching across his features. “Wonderful!” Standing, he crossed the distance and crouched before her. “My General is up to something,” he growled. But when was Naraku never _not_ sneaking around. He’d known from the very beginning — when an ambitious young samurai came bearing _gifts_ at his doorstep — that Naraku was not to be trusted. “Tell me, where is he headed?”

 

“Under one condition...”

  
**. • º | | º • .**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Finally got this posted! This took longer to hammer out that I would have liked. Unbeta'd because I just wanted to get this posted.
> 
> [1] - hara-kiri is the term for ritual suicide committed by either samurai or noble castes in Japan, though it was sometimes documented in the peasantry as well. I went with hara-kiri, since it is the native Japanese kun reading of the kanji.
> 
> [2] - The Tosandō (or Nakasendō, post-Sekigahara Tokugawa era) was a series of highways that connected small post-towns and capitals through the eastern mountain region, that eventually led to Kyoto and Edo. There were checkpoints, or sekisho, situated along the route that controlled the flow of traffic (especially criminals, suspicious persons, and women). The highways were travelled by all manner of sorts, and banditry was a common problem.
> 
> [3] - Oda Nobunaga, or The Fool of Owari per his nickname, tried to solidify his rise to power by allying with Saitō Dōsan and attacking Saitō Yoshitatsu in 1556 in the Mino province. In the real history, it was a failure. In this work of fiction, while the Oda and Saitō clans fought, Ryūkotsusei swooped in during the confusion and chased them both out, thus capturing Mino for himself.


End file.
